I heard a term recently that struck me. In a podcast by Gil Fronsdal, primary teacher at the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, California, he referred to a phenomenon in the spiritual publishing industry known as Bed Stand Buddhists. It seems that there is a sizable number of people out there who love to read about Buddhism, who love the way the literature, whether it’s one of the Sutras or contemporary writings, makes them feel. There is a sense of peace found in the writings, but this is as far as they go. Bed Stand Buddhists never take the big next step which is from bed to cushion.

Maybe the reason this struck me so much is that I am desperate to apply and actively engage in my practice – both on the yoga mat and on the cushion with my meditation practice. However, I love books, love the intellectual challenges of philosophy and various spiritual writings and if I’m not vigilant about things I could easily succumb to the lure of purely intellectual exercises at the expense of what matters most: engaged practice.

I’ve been a Bed Stand Buddhist and theoretical Yogi as much as I’ve been an engaged, active, practicing one. Yes, I meditate and practice yoga often, but I also spend a lot of time reading books about Buddhism, reading books on yoga, both topics are profoundly interesting to me. So, how do I balance my curiosity with my desire to live by the words and ideas I so frequently immerse myself in?

I find it easy to lapse into passivity. When I’m honest with myself, I’m far too often guilty of forgoing practice in order to better prepare for practice. Preparation is highly overrated. Yes, techniques matter. How we breath matters. It’s also important that we have in place solid foundations for our yoga and meditation. However, at some point, we have to jump. I’ve meditated for years. I’ve been practicing yoga for a few years now. What I’ve found is that regardless of progress and profound insights and success, I’m still drawn to books for that other missing insight, that key secret that’ll make it all easier. But, it’s not easy. It’s hard, frustrating, beautiful, transformative and profound work. And at the end of the day, all we have is ourselves. And we’re responsible for our progress.

Maybe I’m too hard on myself. That’s okay, too.

I just received Edwin F. Bryant’s comprehnsive edition of The Yoga Sutras of Patañjali’s. The book is filled with a history of commentaries and insights, as well as the original Sanskrit as source material and should make for a tremendous study reference on yoga philosophy and vedic culture.

It’ll be fun to work through it.

It’s All Yoga, Baby, a great yoga blog I’ve recently discovered, has a great review of A World Out of Balance, a yoga book I’m eager to read. Written by Michael Stone, this book brings the ancient aphorisms of Patanjali into our modern context.

One thing I really like about her review is the opening paragraph which calls attention to something that also has bothered me about the ultra-hip, self-absorbed yogi class. She writes:

One of the drawbacks about being a yogi blogger is that I get regular exposure to some of the most tasteless and depressing aspects of yoga in Western culture (and y’all know what I’m talking about, because I can’t stop myself from commenting on it). Crass commercialism, hypersexualization, narcissism, branding… it’s enough to sometimes make me wonder why I bother with this practice.

Which is why I’m so grateful for Yoga for a World Out of Balance: Teachings on Ethics and Social Action (Shambala Publications, 2009). The latest book by Michael Stone, a Toronto-based yoga teacher, psychotherapist and author, puts to rest my unease about current developments of yoga and assures me that it’s a practice that is not only worthwhile, but essential for modern life.

Agreed. I’ve been put off more than a few times by self-absorbed yogis who are more into image and posing (not the asana kind) than any kind of true practice that leads to change or realization.

I’m off to find this book. I’ll write my own review at some point down the road. In the meantime, check out the

Among yoga people, Kirtan–which is a mantra or chant based call and response style of music–is immensely popular. And, if you’ve ever been to a yoga class, unless you were at one of those ultra-hip modern flavored yoga classes with reggae and finger food, you’ve probably heard Kirtan at some point.

There are some amazing artists (Jai Uttal, Krishna Das) in this genre. But of the major Kirtan performers, David Newman (aka Durga Das) is my favorite. Newman’s most recent album is wonderfully accessible and beautifully recorded, the voices are incredible and the songs will having you singing them even off the mat.

Give this record a listen.

I love this passage from the Isha Upanishad on the infinite nature of the Self, of mind and consciousness.

The Self is everywhere. Bright is the self,
Indivisible, untouched by sin, wise,
Immanent and transcendent. He it is
Who holds the cosmos together. [Isha, 8]

This is about our non-locality, our pervasiveness throughout the All and our role in the creation of the All. Or, as it has also been written: Tat Tvam Asi.

There is a great quote by William James at the beginning of Dark Lore, Volume 1 that reads,

Round about the accredited and orderly facts of every science there ever floats a sort of dust-cloud of exceptional observations, of occurrences minute and irregular and seldom met with, which it always proves more easy to ignore than to attend to.

As I finish up with Entangled Minds by Dean Radin and launch into In Search of the Miraculous by P.D. Ouspensky, I can’t help but feel the timeliness of this statement as it bears down on me.

There is so much we don’t, can’t and won’t understand, not in lifetimes. These questions aren’t answered by religions, or science or philosophers but can only be answered I believe from within. To quote Swami Vivekananda,

The goal of mankind is knowledge … Now this knowledge is inherent in man. No knowledge comes from outside: it is all inside. What we say a man ‘knows’, should, in strict psychological language, be what he ‘discovers’ or ‘unveils’; what man ‘learns’ is really what he discovers by taking the cover off his own soul, which is a mine of infinite knowledge.

In other words, knowledge, knowing, learning is really a form of remembering.

This is about gnosis, knowledge of self and deep understanding that transcends books. The most important things we can learn, we already posses if we could all only remember where we left them.